


The Mellifluous, the Cacophonous

by donutsweeper



Category: Roundtable Rival - Lindsey Stirling (Music Video)
Genre: Backstory, Five Minute Fandom, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 09:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12650925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutsweeper/pseuds/donutsweeper
Summary: There was a time when their musical abilities blended into seamless duets. Times have changed.





	The Mellifluous, the Cacophonous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prinzenhasserin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prinzenhasserin/gifts).



_"[Music] has an insidious and well-nigh incredible power to move us whither it will."_

**-John Calvin**

_"Music has charms to soothe the savage breast_  
_To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak._

**-William Congreve**

\-------------------------------------------------------

When she was little and first learning to play, her teacher was always correcting her form. "Curl your fingers, my dear. Accept the violin and bow as a part of you, as an extension of who you are." She tried, she truly did, but she always held her bow too tightly and as a result it screeched and fought its way across the strings, leaving sharp winces in its wake. 

It wasn't the same for Durango though, even when they were young he could make his violin sing. Melodies sprung forth, fully formed solfège and do re mis flew into the air as he played. Everyone, especially their teacher, was amazed. Of course she was too, but more than that, she was jealous. 

Common sense told her that if she wanted to play like he did then she'd have to practice, so practice she did. She practiced and practiced and practiced some more. She tried different techniques and adjusted her stance, her grip, and her hold. Then she moved on to working her way through the various attacks: the détaché, the martelé, the collé, the jeté and the rest, mastering them all as best she could. The violin became more comfortable for her to use and slowly but surely the sounds she created with it began to resemble recognizable tunes.

Before long when they played together instead of clashing and rebounding chaotically, the notes they created separately were merging into seamless harmonies. As the years passed their duets swelled into the sweetest of melodies and she'd never been happier. For Durango however, the better she got the more he seemed to think that she was stealing his thunder and his music started to take on an acrid, violent tone as something akin to bitterness began to grow root.

Their teacher tried to soothe his anger, explaining that music was not a trophy to be won, but rather a talent to be shared but Durango seemed unable to listen. He put aside his violin to take up the guitar, claiming the rhythm and chords he could achieve with it were more powerful and better suited to his nature. The fact that the guitar lended itself to a greater capacity for destruction wasn't mentioned as one of his reasons, but she thought it might have influenced his decision.

He apologized the first time his music knocked her down. As well as the second. And the third. But when he sent a chair across the room with enough force it splintered into pieces when it smashed into the wall she noticed he seemed to be enjoying the destruction he caused. Whether or not that was the case, it wasn't surprising that their teacher was not happy with the progression Durango's music was taking. 

Lecture after lecture ensued as a result. "Gifts like yours should be used to lift people's spirits!" began one and "Music is supposed to build things up, not tear them down!" went another. And, finally, "Durango, why must you disappoint me like this?"

But Durango didn't care. Soon, whenever he played trouble and chaos followed. The last time she saw him was as he rode out of town at a gallop, having stolen a kiss, a piece of her heart, and all the money from the till at the general store before leaving, never to return again.

She continued to play and learn everything she could. Eventually she mastered harnessing sound the same way he did, although she did her best to never use her abilities destructively. When it came time to move on, when her skills had reached the point there was nothing else she could be taught, she headed to the frontier and bartered her talents for the things she needed along the way. 

Sometimes she played just for the fun of it, to provide music that people could relax or dance to. Everyone always loved a good tune and music out there was hard to come by and it was easy to exchange a place by the fire or a room for the night along with a warm meal for a little of her skill. Other times her music had purpose. She helped clear away the bramble and brush clogging a field so a farmer could plant on more than one occasion. One year, when winter came earlier than expected and a town was cut off before it had stocked enough supplies, she blasted the snow off the trail so the stagecoach could bring in what was needed. 

She finally found a place to settle down; it was a dusty place halfway between Nowhere and Nothing, but the drinks were cold and the people friendly and before long it felt like home. Life was good. Even out there, as far from 'civilization' as they were, word began filtering in about a wanted man who had been making a name for himself robbing banks all across the West. The gossip about him was hard to believe, apparently no sheriff could seem stand up to him and those who tried found their towns leveled around them. She was completely unsurprised when a name and picture were finally attached to those rumors and she realized the outlaw was none other than her old music partner, Durango Black.

Her little town grew and eventually got its own bank and she began to worry, what if Durango came here and tried to rob it? She voiced her concerns to the town's lawmen, but they scoffed at her unease. "He's just one man with one or two accomplices," they claimed, standing so proud and so very, very sure. "We'll have no problem stopping him if he dares show his face." She thought them foolish with far too much trust in their own skills and far too little concept of what they might be up against.

But she knew.

She'd seen Durango's skills with the guitar. She knew his talent when it came to music and how capable he was at forcing it to do his bidding. The sheriff and deputy meant well, of that she had no doubt, but they were horribly outclassed and had no true sense of the dangers they would face if he attempted to rob their bank. So she pulled out her violin, some rosin and her bow. She practiced her steps and spent hours working on her fingering. The townsfolk thought she was merely showing a bit more interest in her music than usual and enjoyed listening as she refined her technique. The applause she received as a result was appreciated, but the knowledge she'd be able to stand up to Durango Black should he come to town? That was priceless.


End file.
